


watch your world fall apart

by Doranwen



Series: Doranwen's Semi-Abandoned WIPs [8]
Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Alpha Reader Needed, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Gunshot Wounds, Not Beta Read, Read at Your Own Risk, WIP, not actively being written, posted for those who like reading WIPs that may never be finished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doranwen/pseuds/Doranwen
Summary: When Andy and Sam find Luke's body in Bad Moon Rising, Sam must be Andy's anchor in her storm of grief.
Relationships: Andy McNally/Sam Swarek, Luke Callaghan/Andy McNally
Series: Doranwen's Semi-Abandoned WIPs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897975
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In my opinion, this is the most logical ending to 2x03 Bad Moon Rising (well, at least the first part of my fic - the rest depends on whether I nailed the characterization or not). If you don't believe me, go look at the level of natural light in the scene where Luke is shot, and then in the scene where they find him. Given where he was shot **twice** … They could've convinced me if it'd been only minutes later, but that has to be at least a couple hours, if not longer. (Yes, it does appear that they both struck the abdomen, which has a decent survival rate if gotten to a hospital and treated—but his immediate collapse and probable unconsciousness—else he'd have figured out how to dig a phone out for help if he could—makes me think that those bullets struck some vital blood vessels or something. The blood filling his mouth later is rather alarming.) I chose to go to the longer end of the time span for various reasons.
> 
> In case you missed the tags: This is unfinished. It is not being worked on. It may always be unfinished (unless someone really wants to see it finished and is willing to do a lot of chatting with me to help that). You have been warned; don't expect any more of this fic to be posted (though you can always hit the Subscribe button; one never knows what might happen!).

Later, Andy would not remember much of the evening except the feeling as she raced towards the house. Heart pounding, feet flying as fast as they could go, her breath trapped in her throat. The back of her mind registered Sam right behind her, but she spared little thought for him other than being aware of his presence. Her fingers fumbled in her pocket for the key, drawing it out before she reached the door so that it impeded her progress only seconds.

She rounded the corner from the hallway, flicking the light switch as she did so, and… Blood. There was so much blood. "Luke, it's me, Andy!" she cried, sinking to her knees next to his hips. His lips were stained red, the only color in his face. Her fingers brushed the hair at his temples, and the coolness of his skin reached out and wrapped around her heart. "No, no, no, Luke…" She felt rather than saw Sam come around her to Luke's other side. "Sam," she whimpered. "Sam…"

* * *

Sam poured every bit of energy he had into following Andy's form down the alley and around the corner. He wanted to hope for the best but if Baird had Callaghan's gun, the chances of the detective coming out of this unscathed were slim to none. Best case scenario, Baird had shot him in a non-life-threatening area only minutes ago. The young man was still very close to the house—he _could_ have just done it. But as Sam rounded the hallway corner to see Callaghan's body on the floor, his heart sank. Besides the two bloody patches around his abdomen, showing where bullets had struck, there was a pool spreading from his side, and more blood had bubbled from his mouth. The pallor told him the verdict, but he had to check. Forcing himself to ignore Andy's sobs, he dashed around Callaghan's legs, dodging the blood so he could crouch and press fingers to the throat. The skin was cooler than it should be, and he held his fingers there long enough to confirm that there was no pulse.

He pressed his radio button. "Dispatch, this is 1505, we've got a body at 926A Armstrong." He paused for a second. "It's Detective Callaghan. Notify homicide and send backup to help secure the scene."

"Copy that," came the reply.

Andy was disintegrating in front of his eyes, but Sam had to shove that out of his mind for a few more seconds. "Peck, Epstein, make sure Baird is secure. If he won't calm down, wait for backup to arrive before you try to transport. He's now a suspect in a homicide."

Peck's voice was calm. "10-4."

Sam let his hand drift from the radio and slowly stood back up to walk around to Andy, flipping on the kitchen light as he did so. She was still crouched next to Callaghan's body, hand outstretched but not quite touching as her sobs built in intensity. "Andy," he said, reaching down to grasp her shoulders.

"Sam," she gasped, nearly hiccuping, but let him draw her upright.

"Come on," he said quietly, guiding her to the nearest stool. "There's nothing we can do for him now." He dropped one hand but left the other resting on her shoulder while they waited for everyone else to arrive.

* * *

Jerry was finishing up his notes on one case when his phone rang. "This is Dispatch; there's a body at 926A Armstrong. It's… Detective Callaghan," the voice on the other end said hesitantly. "Suspect has been apprehended and secured by Officers Peck and Epstein in the street nearby; Officers Swarek and McNally are on location."

Jerry mentally swore. "I'll be right there," he replied, grabbing his jacket and briefcase in a hurry. Sam was going to have his hands full with McNally there.

Rosati looked up from her own paperwork. "New exciting case?" she asked him with a little smile.

He stopped in his tracks, facing the door, and made himself slowly turn around. He really didn't want to do this, but… He looked at her directly for a second. "It's Luke. They found him at his house."

Her face drained of all color. "He's— how is he?"

Jerry shook his head silently. He watched Rosati as her face twisted, and she rose from her chair.

"I have to— I have to go—"

"You can _not_ be on this case, you know that," Jerry pointed out.

"I have to see him," she pleaded as she grabbed her own things.

Jerry sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. "Fine, you ride with me, you do what I say, or I call Frank. You are not officially on the case, you do not go near the suspect. Clear?"

She nodded silently, eyes already tearing up.

"Let's go," he said, heading out the door. He didn't bother to check if she was following.


	2. Chapter 2

The wait for another officer to arrive had never seemed more interminable. Sam had watched Andy sink more and more into a near-catatonic state, and had started rubbing her shoulders lightly with his hand. Anything to try to ground her, to keep her from total collapse. The silence was punctuated only with a single phone call—Jerry confirming it was Callaghan and letting him know Rosati was coming with him. Sam had his suspicions about Rosati's presence, but it was immaterial at this point.

At last the welcome sound of a police siren sounded outside, then was silenced. A few seconds later Noelle was walking into the hallway. "Shaw's with Peck and Epstein; the coroner should be here soon. I'm going to go secure the scene now," she told him.

Sam nodded, his hand continuing the steady trek across Andy's shoulder blades and up onto the ridge of her shoulders before crossing to the other side and beginning again.

Noelle's face reflected sympathy before she turned to go.

Jerry arrived only minutes later. "No, you're going to stay right there until I tell you," Sam could hear him say to someone—Rosati, probably. Jerry rounded the corner and let out a slow breath as he took in the body lying on the floor. His eyes flicked up to meet Sam's. "You found him like this?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Sam. "Checked for a pulse, but…" He shrugged helplessly. "My guess is he was shot at least a couple hours before we got here. He didn't stand a chance."

Jerry started to turn to the hallway but glanced back at Sam. "You might want to take her to their room, get her to pack a bag. This place is going to be a crime scene for the rest of tonight, at least."

Sam gave him a short nod, then turned to the woman sitting motionless on the stool. "Andy," he called quietly. "Let's go." He took her hands in his and tugged. She followed dumbly, a spark of life coming back into her eyes as she turned, looking toward the body. "Detective Barber's with him now. You need to pack a bag." The press of a hand to the small of her back kept her nudged forward until they were in the next hallway. "Where's your room?" he asked, pausing to take the cue from her. It was several seconds before she moved, but finally she put one foot in front of the other, and he followed her to the bedroom.

He tried not to think about _them_ —there—instead focusing on prompting her to pack. When she made no move, he switched to his TO voice. "McNally, pack a bag for the night," he ordered. Once she seemed to be functioning enough to let be, he went to the doorway to listen to the activity in the kitchen. He could hear the coroner's voice and Jerry's; Rosati was either silent or absent.

Once Andy had collected at least enough for an overnight bag, Sam threw the strap of the duffel over his shoulder and guided her back through the hallway to the kitchen. It seemed to be easiest to just keep a hand in the small of her back; she responded to the gentle pressure, moving in whatever direction he pushed her. "Jerry," he called. The other man looked up from where he was studying something a tech showed him. "I'm going to take her back to the station for now," Sam said. "You want to take her statement there?"

"Yeah, I'll be there a few minutes after you. Get some coffee in her, maybe, something to eat if she'll eat," Jerry suggested.

 _Get her so she can talk_ was what he didn't say, but Sam could read between the lines. A silent Andy was so out of the norm that it was eerie to be around. "Which way do you want us to go out?" He knew the way to the front door but that would involve stepping around the body again…

Jerry gestured behind him. "Back door."

They picked their way past people inspecting various areas for evidence, and Sam finally took Andy's hands in his and led her in his footsteps. The techs paid them little notice, except if they came too close to where they were working. Noelle glanced up at them from her station by the yellow tape. Her face softened, and she lifted the tape as they approached it, patting Andy gently on the shoulder. "Take care of her for us," she told Sam. "She's gonna need you tonight."

Sam raised his eyebrows at her and guided Andy under the tape.

Noelle rolled her eyes at his expression. "What, you're going to send her to stay with Nash, have Nash explain this to her seven-year-old?" Sam remained silent. Andy's dad would be little help either, a corner of his mind reminded him. Noelle shook her head and turned back to her duty. "Get her out of here," she ordered over her shoulder.

Sam turned to go, not bothering to respond. They passed Jerry's car; Rosati sat in the front seat, tear streaks down her cheeks. The expression on her face as she watched Andy pass in front of the car… Sam pressed his lips more tightly together and kept his hand on Andy's back until they reached their cruiser. Peck and Epstein's cruiser still stood there, but no one was around. Oliver probably took Baird with one of the rookies, Sam thought. "Let's go," he told Andy, opening her door for her. She got in without a complaint, and Sam soon began the quiet drive back to the station.

* * *

Sam guided Andy through the halls, garnering sympathetic looks as they went. Luke had transferred in from 27 Division a few years back, and didn't have a lot of close buddies at 15, but he was still part of TPS, and Andy was one of _their_ rookies. Sam could feel the weight of the eyes gathering on them as they neared the squad room.

"Andy!" came the cry from Nash. Sam dropped his hand from Andy's back as Nash propelled herself out of her chair and enveloped Andy in a hug. "Hey, I'm here," she soothed as Andy began to sniffle some. "I'm here."

"Can you take her to Interview One?" Sam asked her. "I'm going to get her a coffee and something from the snack machine. They've still gotta take her statement."

Nash nodded, draping an arm across Andy's shoulders. "Come on, let's get you in here," she said.

When Sam returned with the promised items, Andy actually looked up at him; he counted that as progress. Nash had an arm wrapped around Andy as she sat at her side. Sam settled himself on the other side of Andy. "Here," he said, handing her the coffee. He opened the bag of chips and handed that to her as well.

"I'm not hungry." Her voice was a little scratchy, but it was a wonderful sound to Sam after the long silence. She took a sip of the coffee.

"You need to eat something," he insisted. "Just a few." His tone of voice was firm and unyielding, and Andy obediently began to munch some chips.

The two of them guarded her like silent sentinels until Jerry came in.

"I'll be in the squad room; let me know when you need me," Sam told him. He left Jerry to take Andy's statement and started on their paperwork. Normally he'd split the pile with Andy—she'd flatly refused to do _all_ of it for him once he wasn't her TO anymore—but that wasn't happening tonight. He sighed and picked up the first page, a headache already building.


	3. Chapter 3

"Go get some sleep, Sammy," Jerry told him as they left the interview room. "There's nothing more for you to do here."

Sam nodded. There wasn't much point in telling Jerry to do the same; it would be a late night for him. Sam started to walk to the equipment room to remove his gun belt and vest, only to see Nash still in the squad room. "What are you still doing here?" he asked. "I thought you'd have taken Andy home by now."

"I would, but I'd promised the lady over there I'd do another look-over of this and I still have to finish that," Nash answered, pointing to a woman sitting across the room.

"Where's Andy?"

"Interview Two. I got her into her street clothes and had her lie down, try to get some sleep." Nash sighed. "I should probably call Dex, get him to set up the couch for her."

"The couch?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"It pulls out, and it's very comfortable." Nash went back to looking at the screen.

Noelle's words to Sam came back to his mind, unbidden. He rubbed his head and let out a slow breath. "I'll take her," he finally said.

"What?" Nash's head swiveled to look at him, eyebrows crawled nearly up to her hairline.

"Look, she needs peace and quiet right now. I'm sure the couch is great, but… I've got a guest room that's empty."

"Well, she _would_ get to sleep in, then," Nash said slowly, thinking it over. "Leo likes watching cartoons every morning, and the couch is where he sits."

That clinched it. "I'll be back to get her once I'm ready to go."

"Thanks, Sam." She hesitated before saying his first name, but Sam just nodded once to affirm. She might as well, given her connections to Jerry and Andy both.

* * *

Sam slowly opened the door to Interview Two. The light was off, but there was enough streaming in from the door to make out Andy's form on the couch. Sam simply looked at her for a few seconds, then flipped the light switch. She flinched immediately at the bright light in her eyes, and he crossed the room to pull up a chair right next to the end of the couch where her head lay. "Ready to go?" he asked her softly.

"I thought Traci…?" she began, pushing herself upright at a snail's pace.

"She doesn't have a spare room; I do. Already talked to her." It might not have been his first choice, but it was the best option Andy had, and he was sticking by it. Andy had better too; there was no sense in her fighting him on this now.

Andy met his gaze, and Sam winced inwardly at the dull look to her eyes. "OK." Her voice was flat and lifeless; Sam couldn't tell if she was saying it because she genuinely agreed, or because she couldn't muster up the energy to care.

He rose to his feet and reached a hand down to her. She took it and he tightened his grip, pulling her up to stand next to him. She swayed a little as her weight shifted to her feet, and Sam tugged on her hands slightly to prevent her collapsing back onto the couch. He dropped her hands after a few seconds when he suddenly realized he was still holding them. Her eyes fastened on his, and the walls came down for a moment; the pain pouring out of them was nearly physical. Sam couldn't think of a single thing to say that would help, so he lifted the duffel to his shoulder and brought up his hand to the small of her back again. His touch had the same effect as it had earlier, and she began to put one foot in front of the other.

* * *

The ride home was a fog for Andy. The image of Luke's body seemed permanently etched behind her eyelids, and she kept wishing she had tried to contact him earlier, maybe stopped by to check up on him—but why would she have? There was no reason to do that in the middle of the afternoon. Or late afternoon. Whenever.

The coffee had given her enough energy to tell Jerry everything she could remember. It wasn't much—she now understood why eyewitness detail was so spotty at times. When the only things she could think were _is he dead nooooo Luke this can't be happening someone fix this make it right_ , it was no wonder she didn't recall if the door looked like it had been tampered with in any way.

She was simultaneously exhausted and alert—probably a side effect of the residual caffeine in her system. Every step inside Sam's house felt like a mountain, and only the warm hand on her back gave her the will to keep putting one foot in front of another. Her mind vaguely recognized the surroundings from the aborted trip to his bedroom the previous year, and soon he steered her to a room she hadn't been in before. Her brain registered a bed, and she turned to see Sam placing the duffel bag on a chair next to it.

"The bathroom's the door on the left," he told her. "I'll be in my room, if you need me."

He stood there for a moment, and she realized belatedly she should probably acknowledge his words. She managed a small nod, and he left her, closing the door quietly behind him. Her legs gave out and she sank onto the bed. She sat there for what seemed like an eternity until she heard Sam's movements in the other room. Slowly she changed into something to sleep in, then crawled under the covers. She closed her eyes, but sleep was a long time in coming.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes to the patch of light on the ceiling, the faint remnants of the light from a streetlamp that filtered through his window. When he was a rookie, he'd always slept poorly the night after seeing a body. It had faded over time, but it had been a while since he'd seen the body of someone he knew, especially from that violent a death. Which was probably why he'd found himself awake at two a.m. His ears suddenly picked up a sound from his living room, and he leapt out of bed, tiptoeing to the door and opening it carefully. He slipped out of his room and down the hallway before flipping on the switch to the living room lights.

Andy whirled around from where she stood by the sofa, letting out a little gasp.

"It's just me," said Sam, feeling like an idiot. "I heard you moving around, and I'm not used to having someone here in the middle of the night…" Which probably said more about him than he intended to, but this was Andy, so. He studied her face; her eyes were slightly red, but some of the shock in them had worn off. "Trouble sleeping?"

She nodded after a moment, and the look she gave him reminded him of her first year on the job, when she was all brand new and optimistic. When things went awry, she would give him this look of complete trust, that somehow he'd know what to do next. The newness and optimism might be nowhere in sight, but the trust in her eyes weighed on him, and he thought through what to try.

He picked up the remote and turned the TV on to some late night show (he really didn't care what), making sure the volume was down low enough just to barely hear it. He flipped off the overhead lights and sat at one end of the couch, patting the seat at the other end.

Andy hesitantly approached and settled onto the cushion. Sam leaned back against the couch, partly closing his eyes and turning his head slightly so she was in his line of sight. After a few minutes, she glanced sideways at him and pulled her feet up next to her, leaning over against the couch pillow at her end till her head rested on it. Sam watched her half-lidded, as bit by bit she slipped back into slumber. When he was sure she was asleep again, he pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch down and draped it over her before finding another for himself. The steady drone of the voices from the screen carried him into unconsciousness.


End file.
